


Exposed

by mpf



Category: Two Guys a Girl and a Pizza Place
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpf/pseuds/mpf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete gets high on a combination of E and 2CB.  Berg gets an education.  Sharon gets a cameo.  Warning:  drug use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposed

Berg forced back a yawn as he flicked the light on. He'd pulled yet another double shift at the hospital, and he was beginning to pay the price of not enough sleep and too much coffee.

"Berg!"

Berg blinked. 

Pete was sprawled on the couch in his boxers, holding a turquoise bra. And looking far too pleased to see him.

"Pete," Berg said carefully, trying not to stare at the bra. "What's up?"

"Oh, _man_ ," Pete said, a goofy smile lighting up his face. "Everything."

Berg frowned. This wasn't the Pete he knew. Where was the shrug and the 'nothing'? Where were the complaints about his day? Where were his clothes? And most importantly, why was he holding a turquoise bra?

"There was this girl, but she had to go." Pete's smile had disappeared. "I didn't want her to go. I wanted to do stuff." He held up the bra, his smile returning. "But she left this."

"Riiiiiight," Berg said. "Good for you." He took off his coat, and threw it over the counter. Maybe if he ignored whatever the hell was going on, it'd just go away and let him get some sleep.

Pete sat upright, with some effort. "Berg, I love you, man. You know I love you, right?"

Berg sighed. "Pete, what's going on?"

"Can I ask you something?" Pete frowned. "Have you ever, you know, with a guy?"

"Have you been drinking?" Berg asked wearily, but even before Pete answered, he knew that wasn't it.

"No," Pete said. "Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful?"

"Did you get hit on the head?"

"And your eyes - they're like - like the sea, after a storm - " Pete had a dreamy look on his face.

"Drugs," Berg said with certainty. It had to be.

There was a pause.

"Pete?" he prompted.

"Maybe," Pete admitted sullenly.

Berg sighed again. "Jesus, Pete. What did you take?"

Pete smiled.

"Pete?"

Berg's chagrin went up a notch as Pete started to laugh. "Pete, what - ?"

"I - I've tripped and I can't get down!" Pete gasped out, before dissolving into more laughter.

Berg rubbed the back of his neck. Christ, all he wanted was to go to bed so he could get a couple of hours sleep before his 7am start the next day. Trust Pete to chose the night before an assessment to turn into pot head.

Pete was sobering up again. "Seriously, Berg - you should try it. Everything is so - amazing - "

"Pete - "

"No, Berg, really. It's all beautiful and, and - _amazing_ \- "

"All right, Pete - "

"I mean, look at this," Pete held up the brightly coloured bra, "Isn't this amazing?"

"Pete - "

"The colour, the way it feels in your hands - kinda silky, and soft. Like Amy." 

Berg tried not to groan at the soppy expression on his friend's face. "Wait. Don't tell me. She's The One, and you - "

"Nah," Pete said casually. "But she is _so_ hot. You'd like her."

"I'm sure I would," Berg said slowly, surprised. "But what I really what to know is what she - "

"And look at the remote," Pete said, picking the TV remote up and gently caressing it. "The way it's so sleek and smooth, and _powerful_ \- "

Berg resigned himself to a night of nonsense. Or worse, depending on just what the hell Pete was on. "Pete, as glad as I am that you're discovering everyday miracles," Berg kept his tone light, "I'd really like to know what it was you took."

Pete shrugged. "Dunno. Can I touch your hair?"

"I - what?"

"Can I - "

"Where did you get it from? Whatever you took?" Berg interrupted him hastily.

"Amy gave them to me. But then her thingy beeped, and she had to go."

" _Them_? Plural? And - she got you high and then left?" What a _bitch_. Berg tried not to let his disgust show on his face. 

Pete shrugged. "You know, sometimes I wish life had subtitles."

Berg blinked. "What? No, wait, don't answer that." He perched on the edge of the couch and looked down at Pete. "Did she call them anything? What did they look like?"

"They looked like pills, " Pete offered helpfully. "Little, white." He shrugged. "Something like, MD something, or something."

"MD - ?" Berg repressed the urge to bang his head against the wall. "MDA? Or MDMA?"

"MDMA," Pete said, "Yeah, that sounds right. And the pencil one, too."

"Pencil - ?"

"2HB. Whatever."

"2 -? 2CB?" Berg asked warily, suddenly sure he knew what the answer would be.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it," Pete said, nodding. "That sounds about right."

Berg pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pete, she dosed you on ecstasy and a sex drug. And then took off."

"Ecstasy - ?" Pete looked worried. "Like that thing, that killed that guy?"

Berg shook his head. "You'll be fine." Provided it actually was what she thought it was, and not something else masquerading as MDMA. Like LSD. Or worse. And that it didn't go all weird on him. "How long ago did you take the tabs?"

Pete shrugged. "You know, those blue scrubs really suit you."

"How long ago, Pete?"

"They kind of bring out your eyes."

Berg sighed. "What happened to just saying 'no' to drugs?"

"I said no," Pete said sullenly. "They just didn't listen."

"You didn't think it was - oh, I don't know - just a wee bit _odd_ that your date wanted you to start swallowing pills?"

"No," Pete said with a shrug. "Not really. She said it'd be the best sex I ever had."

"Oh," Berg said. That was actually kind of understandable. 

"Berg?" Pete pulled himself upright. "What's going to happen? Am I going to die? Because if I do, I want you to burn everything in the brown suitcase in my closet. Without looking at it. Um, because it's not mine, I'm just looking after it. So burn it. 'Kay? And at my funeral, tell 'em - " he paused for thought, "- tell 'em, it's not that easy, being green."

"You're going to be fine," Berg told him, standing and heading over to the sink. "There's nothing you can do to counteract the E. Just drink some water and enjoy the trip."

He filled a large glass with water and handed it to Pete.

Pete gulped the water.

"Slow down," Berg cautioned him. "There is such a thing as too much water."

Pete set the empty glass down on the coffee table. "Okay. So, Berg, do you want to have sex? With me?"

Berg choked. Looked like the 2CB was kicking in. "No. I - just no, okay? And neither do you. At least, not with me. It's the drugs talking."

Pete scowled. "I do too want to have sex. With you."

Berg did his best to ignore the fact that Pete had slipped a hand inside his boxers and was slowly stroking himself. "Why don't you go to bed, and," he made himself say it, "do _that_ there." Christ, he was hard. Thank god for loose scrubs.

"I need someone really bad," Pete's voice was low and throaty. "Are you really bad?"

Despite his sudden - and somewhat disturbing - arousal, Berg had to try hard not to laugh. "Pete, I can't believe you'd use that line on me. It's _terrible_. And somewhat insulting. How easy do you think I am?"

Pete shrugged and rose unsteadily to his feet. "I want you."

Berg shook his head. "No, Pete, you want to get off. Because of the 2CB. So go someplace where I don't have to see it and do what you need to do." He turned away. Pete was fine. Would be fine. "I'm going to bed."

"How convenient," Pete said from directly behind him, sounding far, far too normal.

Berg turned back and found Pete less than two inches away. He took a step back and hit the wall behind him with an audible _thump_. "Pete - "

"Berg." Pete moved closer, still not quite touching.

Berg's mouth was suddenly dry. "Um, it's been lovely, but I have to scream now. 'Night." He darted sideways, but Pete was there before him. 

"Berg," Pete reached up and tenderly touched his face. "I love you. You're my best friend. I just want to - " he struggled for words, "to show you. That I mean it."

"I d-d-don't think that's a g-g-g-good idea," Berg said, hating the stutter that crept back into his speech at the worst possible moments. Fuck, only Pete could rattle him like this. 

"Why not?" Pete's mouth was so close to his. So close he could -

"Because you're h-high. And I'm tired. And you are _so_ going to regret this tomorrow." Berg was relieved to hear his voice sound something close to flippant. 

"There is no tomorrow," Pete told him softly, "just now." He brushed his lips against Berg's.

Berg shuddered, turning away. "Pete - "

Pete zeroed in on his mouth again, and deepened the kiss, pushing Berg hard against the wall and bringing their erections into contact for the first time.

Berg heard himself cry out at the unexpected sensation, heard Pete hiss. He felt weak, like he was trembling all over. He should stop this. Right now. Make Pete stop.

Much later, when he thought about it, he couldn't pinpoint the moment where he stopped trying to pull away from the kiss and started to be passive. And even more unforgivably, the moment where he stopped being passive and started making out with his drugged best friend.

Pete slipped a hand up underneath Berg's shirt and ran his fingers softly over his stomach.

Berg felt his stomach muscles contract, and the sensation went straight to his cock. Somehow, his hands had found Pete's shoulders, and were gripping tight enough to leave bruises. He made a conscious effort to relax, and was successful until Pete ran his fingernail over one of his nipples. 

Berg arched his back helplessly. "Pete -" he said, pleading. For what, he wasn't sure; he only knew he couldn't take much more of this. It was too intense. Too much.

Pete's hand meandered down Berg's body, and suddenly, shockingly, cupped the bulge in his pants.

Berg thrust forward involuntarily. "Shit, Pete - "

"Ssssshh," Pete hushed him. "Just feel it."

It had been far too long, and it was far too much, and before he knew it, Berg was seconds away from coming, seconds away from - 

He shoved Pete violently away, ignoring Pete's cry of protest.

He took the three steps into his room and slammed the door closed. With shaking hands he turned the key in the lock - the key he never used, ever - and sank down to the floor.

Pete was hammering on the door, calling his name, and threatening, in a surprisingly conversational tone, to do unspeakable things to his offspring, should he ever produce any.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Berg freed his cock from the scrubs, gave it several quick, rough jerks, and came, shivering, listening to the sounds of Pete trying to pick his lock.

 

********************************

 

Berg swiped the alarm off his bedside table, his eyes bleary with fatigue. Fuck, was it six already?

Reluctantly, he heaved himself out of bed. As he struggled into fresh scrubs, the events of the previous night came back with a vengeance.

Shit. What kind of a friend was he, letting Pete do the things he did? The touching things. And the kissing things. And - 

He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. And what the hell had come over him, anyway? Pete was high on E and a sex drug, but what was his excuse? 

He'd been high on exhaustion, sure, but not _that_ high. It couldn't have been that long since he last got laid, could it?

He thought for a moment.

Shit, it had been that long. He really needed to get out more. Needed to have _sex_ more.

He pulled the blue shirt over his head and went to the door. 

Locked. Of course. He'd locked it the night before, so Pete couldn't - 

He leaned his head against the door. How was he going to face Pete? What was he going to say? 'Hi, Pete, sorry I let us grope each other last night, my bad, won't happen again.'

Sure.

He made an effort to shrug it off. With any luck, Pete might not even remember. 

Berg unlocked the door as quietly as he could. Pete was probably asleep. 

Berg crept into the living room; Pete was draped over the couch. Asleep, as predicted.

And naked. 

With dried come on his chest and stomach.

Berg froze.

Shit.

Pete looked fine, though; his colour was good, and he was breathing deeply and evenly.

Berg looked longingly at the coffee maker. God, what he wouldn't do for a caffeine hit about now - 

Pete stirred.

Okay, time to go. He'd get coffee on his way to the hospital.

As quietly as he could, Berg opened the front door and left the apartment, making sure it was locked after him.

He'd deal with Pete later.

 

********************************

 

Berg stared at the apartment door. 

Pete was in there. He could hear the vague sounds of afternoon TV - probably one of the soaps that Pete loved so much.

And here he was, too chicken to go into his own apartment.

Jesus, what a wimp.

"Hey, Berg!"

Berg jumped. "Sharon - hi. What's up?"

Sharon looked pointedly at the laundry basket she was holding. "Oh, nothing. Just been for a walk."

"That's nice," Berg said, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

"So, is Pete okay?" Sharon asked.

"What do you mean?" Berg asked, suddenly concerned.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just - he looked a little weird when I saw him before. Like he went on a major bender or something. I just wondered."

"Oh," Berg said. "Uh, yeah, I guess you could say he went on a bender."

Sharon nodded. "Thought so. Anyway, I've got to go. But I'll see you later, 'kay?" She headed up the stairs, basket firmly balanced on one hip.

Berg turned back to the door. 

"Oh, Beeeeeeeeerrg - "

"Oh, no," he said weakly.

"Hi Berg!"

He pasted a smile on his face and turned. "Hi _Ireeeeene_!"

"So, what's the Berginator doing out here?" she asked. "If you're looking for Pete, I think he's in there," she pointed to the apartment door. "Unless he's climbed out the fire escape again." She smiled cheerfully. "What a silly!"

"Uh, yeah," Berg said. "So, Irene, nice as it's been to see you again, I've got to go slit my wrists." He grinned at her. "See you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile!" she said, grinning back.

He unlocked the apartment door, launching himself inside and relocking it before Irene could say anything else.

"Hi, Berg."

Berg swallowed nervously as he turned to look at his roommate. "Hi, Pete. How's it hanging?" Great. That was _so_ what he didn't want to say.

"Great," Pete said, sounding less than convincing.

Berg nodded. "Sooooo..."

"So." Pete replied blandly.

"I need coffee," Berg said heading for the kitchen. "Coffee, coffee, coffee... You know, I think there may just be too much blood in my caffeine system - "

"You drink too much coffee," Pete said, taking a seat on the couch. "It's going to kill you one of these days."

"Coffee is my wonderdrug," Berg said lightly. And then kicked himself. Way to ignore the night before. Way to be cool.

Pete just nodded.

There was an awkward silence as Berg made his coffee.

Finally, Pete flicked the TV off. "Berg, about last night - "

Berg flinched. "Um, yeah - ?"

"I'm really sorry, I just - that girl, Amy, she gave me that shit and we were, you know, and then she had to go, and I guess I just sort of took it out on you." Pete took a breath. "So, um, I'm sorry."

Berg blinked. He'd expected something along the lines of, 'Berg, you're a dirty old perv,' or maybe, 'Berg, I can't believe you let me do that, you're a terrible friend.' 

Pete shifted on the couch.

"I - uh - look, don't worry about it," Berg said, finally. He took a gulp of his too-strong coffee. "Happens to the best of us."

"It does?" Pete asked curiously.

"Well, no," Berg said. "But it's okay, anyway."

Pete nodded. " 'Kay."

They sat in silence until Pete turned the TV back on.

 

********************************

 

Berg lay in bed, playing idly with the waistband of his boxers as he plodded through yet another textbook. This one was biochemistry, and duller than anything he'd ever come across before.

If nothing else, it made an excellent sedative. Not a bad thing when you had to cram eight hours of sleep into three and a half.

There was a knock on his half open door.

"Come in," he said, wondering what the hell was going on. Pete _never_ knocked. Ever.

Pete came in, still dressed in the jeans and t-shirt he'd worn that day. "Hey."

"Hey," Berg answered, closing the text book.

"So, I talked to Amy today," Pete said, sitting gingerly on the edge of Berg's bed.

Berg tensed. "Yeah?"

"She said - " Pete stopped, flushing, and stared at the floor.

"She said - ?"

"She said that stuff, what she gave me, that it takes away your inhibitions, and lets you do all the things you wouldn't normally let yourself do, stuff that you really want to do, but just don't really dare, and that even if you don't think so, the things you do are _you_ \- "

"Breathe, Pete," Berg said with forced calm. "So - ?"

"Is that true?" Pete sounded all of about five years old.

Berg shrugged helplessly. "I dunno, Pete, I guess so. From what I've heard, and what I've read. That's what they say."

"Oh."

"But no one knows how each drug affects each person. I mean, it's different for everyone. And it depends on how much you take, and your genes, and a million other things." Berg leaned back against his pillow. "So I wouldn't take it too seriously."

"Amy thinks I have a thing for you," Pete told him quietly, eyes still locked on the carpet. "She says things like that can come out when you're high on E."

Berg chose not to mention the bad pun. "Pete, are you high again?"

"No!" Pete sounded insulted. "I'm not high. Or drunk. I may be insane, however."

"Pete - "

"So I thought about it," Pete said in a rush. "And I thought about you," it turned into a whisper, "And I got hard."

Berg tensed. Shit.

"So, I thought some more, and then it hit me."

Berg swallowed. "Um, what hit you?"

"You," Pete said breathlessly, finally meeting his eyes, "You're The One."

Berg stopped breathing.

Pete was staring at him. "Berg? Say something."

Berg rubbed the back of his neck. Fuck. "I - we're friends, Pete, just friends. I _can't_ be The One - "

"We're always together in the end, no matter what," Pete said softly. "We do everything together. We're never apart. We come home to each other. And I think - we belong to each other."

Berg tried not to groan. Pete did this on a regular basis; she's The One, no, it's her, she's _definitely_ The One - 

It was just an idea he had in his head, and the reality of it would soon relegate it back to wherever the hell it came from. Pete had no idea what he was saying. Or how often he'd said it before.

"Pete, you're still screwed up from that shit, and that bitch messing with your head, all right? I'm not The One."

Pete shook his head. "You were hard. Last night."

"You were all over me!" Berg said defensively. "The pope would've been hard."

Pete shook his head again. "No."

"Don't tell me no," Berg said.

"No."

Berg opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Pete was in his personal space and kissing him - god, kissing him again - and running his hands over his chest, his stomach, his thighs - 

With an effort, he pulled away. "Pete - "

"Come on," Pete said huskily. "I want you."

The words shot straight to Berg's groin, and before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing Pete back, hands going under his t-shirt.

"Wait, Pete - " he said. "We can't do this - "

"I want you," Pete said again. 

"Pete - "

An evil smile crossed Pete's face, and before Berg could say anything else, Pete had moved down his body and was nuzzling his crotch.

Berg moaned, softly. "God - "

Pete pulled Berg's boxers down and freed his cock. Keeping his eyes fixed on Berg's, he took just the tip into his mouth and sucked gently.

Berg moaned again, hips bucking. "Please - "

Pete swirled his tongue around the head of Berg's cock, and then, taking it into his mouth again, he began to move rhythmically, sucking gently at first, then harder as Berg began to thrash on the sheets.

"Shit - Pete - " Berg was incoherent. This was his friend, his _best_ friend, and it was all wrong - but he couldn't stop it. It felt so good, too good, and god there was nothing he could do but go along for the ride.

For one surreal moment he saw them both; himself lying on his bed, fisting the sheets, thrusting desperately, and Pete, going down on him with a surprising amount of skill. 

This isn't happening, he thought, this is okay because it isn't happening.

Just then, Pete brought a hand up and gently caressed first Berg's balls, then his perineum, then brushed a finger over his opening.

Berg bucked frantically. "Pete - " he gasped, trying to give him some warning - and then he came, hard, helplessly.

He lay there, breathing hard, trying to muster the strength to open his eyes.

"Berg," it was just a whisper.

Berg forced his eyes open.

Pete was kneeling on the bed, jeans open, his hand on his cock, slowly jerking himself off.

Berg couldn't take his eyes off him. Was this really the Pete he'd known for so long?

As if in answer, he leaned over and kissed Berg again, still stroking himself. "It's okay," Pete whispered. "It's okay."

Berg nodded, tightly, and let Pete kiss him. It felt good - weird, but good - to have Pete stretched out on top of him, kissing, feeling Pete touch himself.

Berg felt he should do something, but despite the startling realisation that he was enjoying this, he wasn't sure he could.

Pete tensed, suddenly, and came with a moan, his come hitting Berg's stomach.

The sticky heat on his stomach, and the heady scent went straight to Berg's groin, and he was instantly, painfully hard. Again.

Pete moved off Berg, collapsing to lie next to him, breathing hard.

He lay still, ignoring his erection, letting Pete lull himself into sleep.

Sooner or later - maybe the next day, maybe in two weeks - Pete would find another One and realise that he and Berg weren't meant to be. Of course, two weeks after that, there'd be another One, and another. Pete was chasing rainbows, just like always.

But they'd still be friends. Always friends. 

And if, in the meantime, Pete wanted this, if he _needed_ this - then that was okay, too. Berg never could say no to Pete when it mattered.

Pete turned restlessly in his sleep.

With a sigh, Berg dropped a gentle kiss on his friend's forehead and got up to shower and make some coffee.

 

THE END


End file.
